A Modern Life
After decades of discrimination, poverty, and despair, American Indians can finally look toward a better future
John Guevremont, the Pequot's chief operating officer, says that Foxwoods has pulled a scattered people back together and helped revive a nearly extinct culture. Tribal defenders dismiss the complaints as jealousy, or even racism, and a misunderstanding of the tribe's history of assimilation and intermarriage. As for their financial success? "We just happen to be not lucky enough to be the first tribe on the North American continent to end up on a reservation," Guevremont says, "and lucky enough to be directly smack dab in the middle of two major metropolitan areas, New York and Boston."
But Indian gambling is still getting a bad name. Critics point to loose governmental oversight, the suspicious removal of critics from some tribal rolls, and the tens of millions of dollars that casino tribes now spend on lobbying efforts and political contributions. But Hall and other leaders say that most gambling operations are doing just what they were supposed to--provide jobs and boost funding for social programs on reservations. (Despite the common perception of federal largess, per capita spending on Native Americans has actually been lower than for the general population since 1985.) "There's this new stereotype that Indians are rich now, because of the casinos," Hall says. "But out of the 200 or so tribes that have casinos, maybe 25 of those are doing pretty good, and that's stretching it." Some of the poorest tribes, such as the Navajo and Hopi, have rejected gambling as culturally inappropriate, and many others are too remote to rake in huge profits. "We're 300 miles from our market," says Hall, whose North Dakota reservation is home to the Four Bears Casino. "We still manage to employ 500 people, but if I can get a little bit on profit after that, damn I'm doing good."
On the Warm Springs Reservation, about 100 miles east of Portland, Ore., a modest resort and casino complex is only part of a growing cultural and economic revival. Like many tribal groupings, the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs--mostly Warm Springs, Wasco, and Paiute people--took over administrative responsibilities from the Bureau of Indian Affairs beginning in the 1970s, following legislation that allowed much of the BIA's budget to be transferred directly to the tribes. At Warm Springs, that has meant investment in business ventures, natural resources, agriculture, and, beginning in the late 1980s, gambling. Proceeds have been funneled into education and healthcare projects and used to purchase thousands of acres of new land. (Nationally, tribes have been reversing 400 years of land loss, acquiring some 7.5 million acres since 1962).
Success. The vast majority of the tribe's 4,500 members don't have high school diplomas, so finding tribal members to run such operations hasn't been easy. But that, too, has begun to change. Jacob Coochise was one of only a handful at Madras High School to graduate in 1991, and when he left the reservation to go to college, he figured he'd never return. But by the time he completed a degree in business and economics--with the tribe picking up most of the tab--Coochise recalls, "I felt more proud of being an Indian, so I came back with the idea that . . . maybe it was time to give something back." Today he is the sales and marketing manager at a tribal business that manufactures fireproof building materials. And more Warm Springs children are following in his footsteps. Graduation rates are still low, but thanks to a dedicated staff, increasing parent involvement, and especially a tribal council decision to withhold a $2,000 to $4,000 trust fund payment until young people graduate from high school, 70 tribal members earned their diplomas last year, a sevenfold increase from just four years ago.
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